Naivete
by Mandy138
Summary: Ed reflects on a troublesome commander and comes to several realizations. NOT a RoyEd, dang it!


Spoilers for manga…as it were, though outside the _one_ instance, nothing else is taken from it.

* * *

_Bah, that bastard of a colonel and asshole of a man had sure gotten on his nerves _this_ time! 'Stay close, from now on. I'm just looking after you!' Feh! As if he had any intention of doing _that_! Honestly, who did that prick think he was? Trying to 'look after' them, his ass. He was only interested in _using_ them._

At least…he'd like to continue thinking that, would like to remain naïve, he mused darkly to himself as he set the picture frame down. But with recent events, he just couldn't go back to that, to the way he saw the colonel. No, his view had been forever changed and it all started with an old photograph. Even now, story completed and so many holes now filled, he was still unable to keep his eyes from it.

* * *

They had just found out about Hughes's death two days ago and were now at the Hughes' residence visiting Gracia, having finally worked up the courage. But whatever heartwarmings Gracia had been saying had filtered out upon glancing at this table tastefully displaying photographs. He'd been here before but had never really taken the time to _look_; things had always been so hectic with Hughes around and that realization made this situation all the more bitter. But now that he'd seen this he couldn't stop looking at the one photo just off to the left, a Maes Hughes as carefree as ever and one very, very _young_ Roy Mustang.

"Say, Ms. Gracia," Ed's thoughts verbalized, "when was this picture taken?"

"Which one?" she smiled gently, moving towards him as she threw a cautionary glance out the window at Elysia playing with Winry. "Ah, that one caught Winry's attention, too, when she first came to stay," the motherly smile Ed so loved appearing. It made him feel welcome, like he was home.

"Winry?" He was caught quite off-guard and didn't know what to make of it. Looking between her and the picture, he had to admit the bastardized colonel kept drawing his eyes, he thought on what could possibly…

No way…! It couldn't be that she…! She thought the colonel was _attractive_? Ed suddenly felt sick.

"Yes," she breathed, still smiling. "I think she said it helped clear up something in the past, that he wasn't a bad person, after all… Well, it was quite confusing to me but she seemed to have cheered up considerably after that."

"Ah."

"Oh, as for your question, hmm, let me see," she paused, tone and face embodying puzzlement. "I think it was taken nine or ten years ago."

"Really? I'd just wondered 'cause the colonel seems so young, is all." His voice held some perplexity as he tried to sort that information out. If it was only ten or so years ago, that would imply that that asshole was fairly young still and in such a high position so he shouldn't be bossing and ordering him around like he did while acting all high and mighty and keep picking on him or _did_ he have the right to do that _since_ he was young _and_ had the rank or was it maybe-

"Argh!" he grunted loudly, hands fisting in his hair. All this thinking hurt his head!

There was a quiet sigh and Ed calmed slightly, turning to look at its source and feeling very admonished at the mix of pain and wistfulness on Gracia's face.

"He was very young…they both were." The hitches in her voice, while admirably controlled, still usurped her warm tone and he had to look away, ashamed at making her relive the life and death of Hughes. "Just out of the academy and training." And here a pleasant smile returned with a small laugh, "Mustang was only twenty two. Maes was young, as well, although he was the elder by several years."

Ed sucked in air in a hasty gasp and grasped the picture tightly by its frame, hauling it up so that his eyes could scour the photograph for the secrets and truths hidden in a Mustang's that was only a few years older than him eyes. But in the end it was just a photograph, an old picture of a time and phase long ago, and any secrets the camera might have seen remained hidden. But the _look_ of the accursed man who was his superior officer…he hated it. Hated it. It made him feel…something, like regret or a strange longing to see the bitter features return to that, or—

Argh! He was thinking again! But…he still hated it. It made him _feel_. And the longer he spent looking at the picture, into and _beyond_ the dark, too open eyes, he couldn't help but realize that Roy Mustang had once been a cadet, carefree and so very naïve…once. With this realization came another, more profound one, as he thought on how the colonel's eyes were forever narrowed and how they glared at everything; Ed still possessed his naïveté, and it was painfully obvious far too often.

And this was one such occasion, he came to the epiphany. The colonel had been naïve once, too, and while he'd turned into a decidedly bitter and scarred man, he really never behaved that way towards himself or Al. The damned colonel was many other things, as well, Ed had come to find; least of all, he grudgingly acknowledged, paternal. It was amazing how this photo had brought forth the realization of everything the colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye and many others, ironically, had been trying to tell him all along.

The short emergence of his father and hasty withdrawal had actually strengthened the bond, damn it all, as he'd continually sought Mustang out. He thinks it was unintentional, unconscious, but he couldn't deny that he had increased the length of his stays in Central and the time spent around the colonel and 'his minions'. He smiled down at the picture, suddenly thankful of the environment Mustang had provided and tried to provide. He really had always tried to protect them, Ed knew now, with all his interfering. How naïve he had been, really, to think of it only as interfering and not even try to see that yes, the fucking annoying asshole of a man had been right and the protective, even sheltering gestures for what they were.

Ed _really_ hated this picture; hated it and the Mustang in it. Seeing what he was and knowing him as he is… Ed had to respect his colonel, and agreed that no, he wasn't a bad person at all. To see this photograph, to finally know how close Hughes and the colonel had been, to think of what he'd done for him and Al when all he really wanted to do was avenge the lieutenant colonel…Ed really had to respect him. It must have been painful.

"Thanks, Ms. Gracia," he said, voice and actions firm as he set the frame back upon the table. Looking up at her slightly confused face, he beamed. "I needed a good kick."

"Oh, my, Edward," she began, "Mr. Mustang really was right. You do say the strangest things, at times!" And he made a dejected face as she laughed, once again at his expense.

"Man! He's _always_ bad mouthing me. What's a guy have to _do_ around here?" He threw a fit, typical of his 'shorty' routine.

"Edward," she spoke softly in an almost heartbreaking manner, "he doesn't bad mouth you. He worries constantly about you two."

He straightened and waved a hand at her, brushing the topic away. "I know. I know…that now."

She smiled again, the motherly mood tinted by a touch of knowing, or did 'motherly' always _imply_ knowledge? "He just wishes you would _talk_ to him and come to him when you need help—"

"Argh! I got it!" His hands fisted in his hair again. "He's always so nosy!" he smiled gratefully, dulling the barb as he caught the photo again. "I think I'll…start doing just that, Ms. Gracia."

"Oh!" she clapped her hands, ecstatic in her always quiet exclamations. "That'll make him so happy!"

"Yeah," came the quiet admission followed by the self confession, "I kinda owe it to him."

"Let's go have a snack and tea in celebration," Gracia said. "I've made some apple pie for you all."

"Yeah!" he eagerly agreed. He loved her cooking and it always put him in a good mood. And if he was to make good on his promise, he'd need it for the boost in preparation of Mustang's reaction. He had a feeling he was going to need it as he could see himself breaking at one of the possible ones…and feel it, too. If the damned colonel chose to respond in the typical and established manner, then there would be no problem. But the possibility of an atypical reception was equally likely given the many times he's seen Mustang get remotely emotional in situations regarding him. _That's_ what scared him, because he couldn't say he'd be able to remain indifferent and he happily sought the distraction until it was time for his performance, er, report.

* * *

Um, not sure how this turned out and that I like it. It wasn't really what I intended, so there's a high probability that this will be revised/overhauled sometime this week. 


End file.
